The Haunting
by Josiecat
Summary: Is it his guilty conscience? Or something else? Riff Raff has a harrowing encounter with the man he thought he'd silenced forever. Finished - I think!
1. Voices in the Night

This story is a different take on the same notion, brought up in a RHPS fanfic discussion group, that inspired Faye Raye's story "Crime of Passion".  Hope you enjoy!

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As I walk out of the ballroom, hand in hand with my beloved sister, one thought keeps echoing in my head…

_I did it.  I actually did it._

While the thought itself is clear enough, my reactions to it are considerably more ambivalent.  I tried desperately to hold on to the exhilarating feeling of power that had flooded my being immediately afterward, as I'd surveyed those three motionless bodies - dead at my own hand - but it was no use.  That triumphant sensation dissolved with Magenta's comment to me, "But I thought you liked them.  They liked you."

_Liked _them?  Oh, please.  As far as I'm concerned, Rocky was a…a _thing, _not a person.  What was to like?  Columbia was not only irritating, but she had a relationship with my sister I wasn't entirely comfortable with.  As for Frank…well, I don't even want to deal with my feelings toward _him, _but it's safe to say the word "like" is a less than appropriate characterization.  What really defeated me, however, was Magenta's completely incomprehensible assumption that the three of them had liked me.  My impulsive, uncensored response had betrayed my bitterness.  "They didn't like me.  He never liked me!"  Note the use of the word _he.  _Better yet, don't.  Forget I said it.  It doesn't bear thinking about.

Fortunately, Magenta is apparently disinclined to cross-examine me on that verbal slip, or perhaps she didn't notice it.  We start walking toward my small bedroom, when she turns to me with a sly smile on her face.

"I think we should try a different bedroom tonight."

I stop walking and stare at her, with what must be an expression of complete confusion on my face.  Without saying a word, she smiles more broadly and pulls me toward the lift…and suddenly I know exactly which bedroom she has in mind.

Oh, goddess, no.

She must sense my reluctance, because she turns to me with a certain amount of exasperation.  "It isn't as if he's going to object.  Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to sleep in that bed?"

Well, yes, but not quite in the way she thinks.  I shake my head, as if trying to physically dispel those thoughts from my head.  Pasting a smile as thin as my hair onto my face, I murmur, "Yes, I suppose so."

She nods triumphantly.  "So let's go."

Obviously I have no choice.  We ride the lift to the second floor, and I allow her to lead me to that den of iniquity where, a mere few hours ago, he and his "creation" spent some quality time together.  For a moment we both stand in silence, taking in the heavy curtains, the stained glass backdrop…and the large bed, with its rumpled satin sheets, nestled before it.

Finally, Magenta speaks.  "I think I'd better change the sheets.  I'll be right back."

Waiting for her return, I find myself consumed with thoughts of all the erotic interludes that had taken place in that bed.  Oh, if only furniture could talk.  

Fortunately, before my thoughts can sink _too_ deeply into dangerous territory, I hear the click of her high-heeled boots on the marble floor.  I sigh with silent relief as she walks into the room, a mass of black satin bundled in her arms.  With expert speed, she strips the bed and puts on the fresh bedclothes.  As soon as she finishes her task, she turns to me with a seductive smile on her face.

"Are you ready to make this bed your own?"

_Just think about Magenta.  Don't think about anything…or anyone…else.  _With that mantra running through my head, I manage to smile back at her.  Stepping closer, I help her out of her uncomfortable uniform, and she does the same for me.  We tumble onto that enormous bed, slip between those sensuous sheets, and melt into each other's arms.  Maybe it's our new sense of freedom, or maybe there's something about the room itself, but our bodies unite with the kind of white-hot passion we haven't experienced since our earliest days as lovers.

When we finally separate, satiated and deliciously exhausted, I cannot help but smile.  The tension in my body has melted away, and it feels as if our lovemaking has exorcised the ghosts of past liaisons lingering in this room.  I find myself sinking into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I have no idea how much time has passed when I am jarred awake.  I lie there, confused not only about my location, but also about what awakened me.  At first, I am greeted by nothing but silence.  Then, I hear it again.

"Huh, huh, huh, huh."

I bolt upright.  I must be losing my mind, but it sounds just like Rocky!  

No.  Ridiculous.  I must be under more pressure than I'd realized.  I try to capture the sound, but all is again silent.  I shake my head at my own foolishness, and manage to settle back down to sleep.  

A couple of hours pass…then, again, I am awakened.  This time, there is no mistaking the sound.  A high, cartoonish voice asks, "Why did ya do it, Riff?  Why did ya do it?"

_Columbia! _A cold sweat breaks out all over my body, and I start to tremble.  What the hell is going on?  My eyes strain in the darkness, looking for her, but a close examination reveals no other presence in the room.

Just as I start to calm down, I hear it again.  "Why did ya do it, Riff?"

I look over at Magenta, to see if she's hearing what I'm hearing, but she's still sound asleep.  Unfortunately, there's no way I'm able to join her in slumber.  Although I'm terrified, I slip out of bed and head down to the ballroom.  I have to make sure all is as I left it.

I find myself outside the ballroom door, trying to stop shaking – without notable success.  

However, I take a deep breath and walk into the room.  

After my eyes adjust to the dim light, I look around.  Ah, yes, over there is Columbia's body, still in the same position she was in as she fell.  I step cautiously over to the pool, and look down at the two figures floating face down in its warm waters.  All is as it should be.  It must have been my overactive imagination and guilty conscience at work.

Sighing with relief, I start to turn to leave.  However, I'm stopped in my tracks by a voice I thought I'd never hear again.

"If it isn't my faithful handyman.  Well…how nice."


	2. Dead Man Talking

Author's note…If you read Chapter One and wondered at the strange formatting and punctuation, please re-read it.  I accidentally uploaded it as a Word document, rather than as html, and I lost the formatting.  It reads much better now.

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For a moment, I freeze.  Then, with my heart pounding and my palms sweating, I slowly turn in the direction of the voice.  It's impossible…it can't be…but it is.  Standing there before me, looking almost impossibly beautiful, is Frank.  He is wearing the clothing he died in, but his hair and makeup are pristine, unsullied by the water.

I look at him, then at the still figure floating in the water.  His eyes follow mine, and he smiles.  However, he says nothing.  Finally, I choke out, "You're not really here.  You can't be here.  I'm imagining this."

He raises an eyebrow and shrugs.  "If that is what you wish to believe, feel free.  However, there seems to be considerable evidence to the contrary."

By now I'm shaking so violently I can hardly stand.  In a voice barely above a whisper, I reply, "But you're dead.  You're there in the pool."

He shrugs again.  "Indeed."  He sighs.  "I never imagined I would die looking like a two-bit whore turning tricks in Times Square in the pouring rain.  Fortunately, I am not required to spend eternity looking that way."  He smiles again.  "I was quite surprised to discover there _is _such a thing as life after death.  As a scientist, I never believed in such things."

Despite his apparent civility, I am not feeling one bit calmer about what is transpiring.  Almost against my will, I ask the question that is preying on my fevered mind:  "What do you want from me?"

The smile fades from his face, and for a moment he is silent.  Finally, he looks me in the eye and echoes the question first posed to me in Columbia's voice.  "Why did you do it?  Why did you kill me?  How could you do such a thing?"

If there's a proper response to such a question, I certainly haven't discovered it.  I stare helplessly at him, completely at a loss for words.  Ultimately, I decide to give him the same reason I gave Magenta, when I proposed that she and I take control of the mission and overthrow him.  "Like I said, your lifestyle was too extreme.  You were compromising the mission.  It had to stop."  The words sound lame, even to my own ears.

Not surprisingly, he looks unimpressed with my reasoning.  "And murder was the best solution you could come up with?"

I stare at the floor, no longer able to even look him in the face.  I give him the only response that comes to mind…"I'm sorry, Master."

He smiles grimly.  "You're sorry.  How very commendable of you."    

He stops, and I wait for him to lash out, to scream at me, to heap me with abuse.  Much to my amazement, it doesn't happen.  Even _more _amazing, however, is what he _does _say to me.

Speaking quietly, he says, "I suppose it doesn't really matter."  He pauses, and it appears he is in a very uncharacteristic struggle for words.  Finally, he says, "I must admit that despite the circumstances, I couldn't help but be impressed by how…_dominant _you were.  I never thought you were capable of being so virile and commanding.  It was almost…erotic."  He lifts his eyes to meet mine, and a seductive smile creeps across his face.  It is an expression I know well, but one that has never before been directed at me.  When he speaks again, his voice carries the promise of sensual delights the likes of which I've never experienced.  "I want you, Riff Raff.  Do you want me?"

Is he kidding?  Do I _want _him?  He cannot possibly know the number of nights I spent tossing and turning, burning with desire for him.  He cannot imagine the jealousy coursing through my veins as I watched him take on lover after lover, while never giving me so much as a speculative glance.  He cannot begin to understand the excruciating pain I experienced when I saw he would rather build a man from scratch than take to bed the one who'd been worshipping the very ground on which he walked for all the years we'd known each other.

Now, when faced with the question I'd been aching to hear from him far longer than I cared to contemplate, I find myself completely unable to respond.  Fortunately – although embarrassingly – my body responds on my behalf, and I see his eyes take in the very obvious evidence of my arousal.  He smiles and slowly licks his lips in a way that leaves me weak in the knees.

"If you want me…take me."

At first, I find myself rooted to the spot.  Then, as if in a dream, I untie my bathrobe and allow it to fall to the floor.  I slowly walk over to where he stands waiting.  I reach out to take him in my arms…only to encounter nothing but air.  In shock, I look at his face.  He is still smiling, but the smile is no longer seductive.  It is now a smile of victory.

"Oh, dear, I forgot…I no longer have a physical body.  _So _sorry to have raised your…er, _hopes _that way."  He stares again at my crotch, and it is clear he is trying not to laugh.  

However, the amusement slowly fades from his face, only to be replaced by anger.  "It seems I hit on the _real _reason you killed me.  It had nothing to do with my 'lifestyle' – other than the fact that it did not include _you _as one of my lovers.  You killed me because you wanted me, but knew you'd never have me.  Admit it!"

I can feel my face glowing red in a hellish combination of panic and mortification.  "No, Master, that isn't true at all!"

His expression is now one of utter disdain.  "Don't lie to me!  You may have been able to deceive me while I was alive, but I assure you it will not work now that I am dead.  I can see into your mind.  I can see into your heart.  I can see into your very soul!  You robbed me of my life – of my future – of my chance to someday take the throne of Transsexual – out of jealousy, rejection and sexual frustration."  His voice sinks to a contemptuous whisper that is somehow more devastating than a scream.  "How completely pathetic."

The triumph I felt immediately after my killing spree is now nothing but a painful memory.  His words are a lethal weapon, literally bringing me to my knees under the weight of my shame and grief.  Hot tears flow from my eyes, which are now glued to the marble floor in my disgrace.  Although I am not looking at him, I can feel his eyes, flashing with fury, staring at my huddled form.  He is waiting for me to say something.

Unfortunately – and not for the first time – words fail me.  All I can do is repeat the phrase I'd used earlier.   In a voice so weak and trembling I can barely recognize it as my own, I say, "Master, I know this doesn't make up for what I did, but I am truly sorry."

He makes it clear my response is every bit as inadequate as I knew it would be.  "You may be sorry now, but not _nearly _as sorry as you soon will be.  You may concoct a story that will allow you to escape punishment on Transsexual, but I promise you this…I will _personally _see to it you pay dearly for your actions.  Your days will be your own…but your nights will belong to me.  Every time you close your eyes, I will be there…and at my disposal will be my knowledge of your every thought, your every fantasy, your every weakness, your every fear.  Rest assured I will use that knowledge to my full advantage.  Enjoy whatever sanity you may possess now, as I will take it from you just as surely as you took my life from me."

For a moment I am rendered both motionless and speechless, lost in terror at what I have just heard.  I have no doubt he can do as he says; he had the power to drive me to the insane act of murder while he was still alive.  I cannot begin to imagine the horrors he will be capable of with his new insight into every secret of my already tortured psyche.

When I _do _manage a response, it is nothing more than a primal outburst.  __

**_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!_**

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Suddenly, I feel someone shaking my shoulder.  Vaguely, I hear someone calling my name.

"Riff Raff!  _Riff Raff!!!_  Wake up!"

I open my eyes with a start, and am greeted by the sight of my beautiful sister's face, hovering over my own with an expression of concern.  She sees my trembling frame, my sweat-soaked skin, and the sheer panic on my face, and takes me in her arms. 

"Riff, calm down.  You just had a nightmare."

For seemingly endless moments I cling to her, desperate for the comfort and care only she can give me.  Finally, I manage to give her a wan smile.

"Yes, a nightmare."

A nightmare that, I cannot help but suspect, is just beginning.            


	3. Madness Takes Its Toll

_My dearest Magenta,_

_I'm afraid this is goodbye.  I have been an albatross around your neck far too long._   _Please don't be sad.  Or should I say, please don't **pretend **to be sad?  The Master says you will be relieved to be rid of me.  And why not?  What would a woman like you want with a man like me? I have nothing to offer you…no looks, no wealth, no social position.  The Master tells me you have already found another lover, now that we're back on Transsexual.  He says there's something going on between you and Rodolfo, that handsome young courtier who always seemed to find excuses to come around when you were working at the Palace.  Is that why you've seemed so distracted lately?  The Master, with great relish, paints quite a vivid word picture of what happens when you meet Rodolfo…**too **vivid, if the truth be told.  Every time I look at you, I can see the scene the Master describes to me, just as if I were watching one of those Earthling movies.  I see every kiss, every caress, every movement of your naked bodies; I hear every gasp, every moan.  It would all be very erotic…if it weren't **you **making such passionate love to him**.  **_

_But it is.  And I cannot stand it._

_All I have to keep me going are the nightly visits from the Master; I live for that moment I fall asleep and he appears to me.  He offers me my only hope for redemption.  Of course, he is unrelentingly cruel…he mocks me, he berates me, he belittles me.  My every insecurity has been magnified a hundredfold; any vestige of self-respect is long gone.  Most agonizing are those times when he tantalizes me with his beauty and sexual allure, playing unmercifully on the lust he knows I feel for him.  He throws my desire back in my face, listing in excruciating detail every sinful act I want to perform on and with him, then taunting me with his utter and complete inaccessibility.  Occasionally he even seduces Rocky right in front of me, doing everything to Rocky he knows I ache for him to do to me.  He drives me ever closer to the edge of madness as I struggle under the weight of an unbearable combination of arousal, frustration and rejection.  Yet I can't look away._

_Despite his abuse, I need him.  Maybe even **because of **his abuse.  I need the punishment he provides by his very presence.  I need the pain he brings with his brutality.  He has made me understand I deserve nothing more; my weakness and treachery make me unworthy of happiness.  _

_And yet…last night he told me how to make everything right.  It all seems so clear now; I don't know why I didn't think of it myself.  If I am to atone for my sin, I simply need to make an appropriate sacrifice…and that sacrifice, of course, is of myself.  I will give up my life as an act of penance for robbing him of his.  According to him, this act will bind us together for eternity; his careful choice of words leaves me with the hope the bond will be sexual as well as emotional._

_Therefore, my dearest sister, please do not be surprised when you walk into the bathroom and find me there.  I will be in the bathtub, my wrists slashed.  I wanted to make sure the blood would be easy for you to clean up.  You are now free to start your new life with Rodolfo, without the hindrance of my presence.  It is my hope this final act will lead to a new life for me as well._

_The Master awaits._

_Your devoted brother,_

_Riff Raff_


End file.
